PART 2:
Her voice was perfectly even.
Monotone.
As if she were casually remarking that it might rain tomorrow.
Monotone.
As if she were casually remarking that it might rain tomorrow.
Jake hadn’t reached for a single thing.
He had been sitting perfectly, beautifully still for nearly two hours.
He had been sitting perfectly, beautifully still for nearly two hours.
He didn’t cry.
He just slowly lifted his head and looked at me with those wide, trusting brown eyes.
They were the eyes of a child who still fundamentally believed his mother possessed the magic required to fix everything in the world.
I watched the physical heat from the scalding gravy finally register on his flushed face, a split second before his brain could even decide what expression of pain or sorrow to form.
He just slowly lifted his head and looked at me with those wide, trusting brown eyes.
They were the eyes of a child who still fundamentally believed his mother possessed the magic required to fix everything in the world.
I watched the physical heat from the scalding gravy finally register on his flushed face, a split second before his brain could even decide what expression of pain or sorrow to form.
At the head of the table, Marcus was already aggressively pushing his heavy wooden chair back, the legs screeching against the floorboards.
He pointed a trembling, furious finger toward the hallway.
He pointed a trembling, furious finger toward the hallway.
My father remained perfectly still.
He finally lifted his head and stared at Jake and me.
The look in his eyes was something I can only accurately describe as pure, undiluted contempt.
It wasn’t surprise.
It wasn’t paternal discomfort.
It was profound disgust, as if Jake and I were a foul odor he had graciously tolerated for entirely too long.
He finally lifted his head and stared at Jake and me.
The look in his eyes was something I can only accurately describe as pure, undiluted contempt.
It wasn’t surprise.
It wasn’t paternal discomfort.
It was profound disgust, as if Jake and I were a foul odor he had graciously tolerated for entirely too long.
“Get the hell out of this house,” Marcus snarled.
“And don’t you ever show your arrogant face around here again.
”
“And don’t you ever show your arrogant face around here again.
”
My mind went completely blank, replaced by a cold, terrifying clarity.
The kind of clarity that only arrives when a heavy door slams shut in your soul forever.
The kind of clarity that only arrives when a heavy door slams shut in your soul forever.
I stood up.
I reached out and firmly took Jake’s small, trembling hand.
With my free hand, I picked up a linen napkin and uselessly blotted at his ruined sleeve.
The gravy had already soaked through to his undershirt.
I picked up my heavy leather purse from the back of my chair.
I reached out and firmly took Jake’s small, trembling hand.
With my free hand, I picked up a linen napkin and uselessly blotted at his ruined sleeve.
The gravy had already soaked through to his undershirt.
I picked up my heavy leather purse from the back of my chair.
I looked at Marcus, then at my mother, and finally at my father.
“Then you won’t mind,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper so quiet, so razor-sharp, that it forced everyone at the table to hold their breath just to hear me, “if I do this.”
I unclasped my purse and pulled out my smartphone, right there in the glow of the Christmas tree, surrounded by the good china and the wreckage of the dinner I had driven two hours to attend.
I swiped the screen.
I opened my banking app.
I opened my banking app.
Marcus opened his mouth to shout something, his face turning purple.
Without breaking eye contact with the screen, I held up a single, rigid index finger.
Without breaking eye contact with the screen, I held up a single, rigid index finger.
